Words of an Alpha Hunter
by The One True Koneko
Summary: A group of survivors discover the journal of a man turned by Infection, documenting his life -and rise to power- among those lost.


_The weathered book that they'd found stuffed under a pillow was obviously a journal of some sort. Some of the first few pages had been ripped out- perhaps by the previous owner, or perhaps by someone who'd had it before them. The youngest of the group got curious and decided to read through the first few entries... Perhaps by doing so they'd find answers. This area of city had been seemingly empty of any life, even infected... It was almost like a giant safe zone..._

_And so he read, and was shocked at the words on the pages._

_This wasn't a survivor's diary at all..._

**Date**- Dec 4, 2012

**Time**- 2:50PM

I don't remember how it happened- how I'd become infected. My girlfriend and I had been on the run since the outbreak had reached our city and well, I'd probably done something stupid and/or heroic to earn the festering bite on my hand. I had applied antiseptic and bandaged it, but I was too concerned with getting Hannah and our unborn child out of that place to worry about my own degrading health. I thought I could save them, and then off myself once I knew they were out of danger...

I should've known better.

Life had rarely ever been kind to me, and the night I turned it was especially cruel. We'd been stationary for almost two days in a safe-house, the fever of infection having finally worsened to the point that I was stuck on a couch. My head was throbbing... She was changing the bandaging, and the alcohol she used stung like hell. That pain I think is what triggered it.

I blacked out so I don't remember actually attacking her. I do remember that when I came to my senses again she was mangled and dying. She reached for the door, still trying to escape. All I could do was gather her up, sobbing and begging for forgiveness as I held her close. She died before I got any sort of reply other than her own crying...

Hannah, I love you. I'm so sorry that I killed you. Wherever you and our baby are in Heaven, I hope you two can forgive me.

After that I considered offing myself again, but was too afraid of what sort of afterlife I may have. I stayed in the safe-house, waiting for my mind to leave me.

After a day I got hungry and ate some canned soup.

After three days the small amount of food we'd stocked up was gone, and I went out to find a meal. The other infected in the area ignored me for the most part, and I wasn't sure if I should count that as a blessing or curse. Found more cans at a Quick-E-Mart and brought them back.

After five days I was walking outside frequently. I didn't care anymore if I got attacked or not, or if it was by other infected or by normal people.

After the first week I left that safe-house behind and started getting the hang of hunting for my own food. Pigeons soon became a favorite- they were common but still challenging to catch, and if I closed my eyes I could pretend I was eating Cornish hens.

After the second week I realized that I wasn't losing my mind after all; if anything it'd become keener- like my senses of smell and hearing. I was more in-tune with my baser instincts, but I was able to temper these instincts with logical thought. I began recording notes in the first blank journal I could find- this one, actually.

My name is Andrew Lyons. I am a Hunter.

_The young man stared at the last few words of that first entry. A Hunter had written this? How? He thought back to when his group had reached a safe room a few nights back. There were two corpses in there, a female who'd been covered respectfully with a sheet... and an infected male that had looked like he'd crawled off into another room to die after being mauled._

_So had Andrew really killed his girlfriend? Assuming that that was her they'd found..._

_It was hard to say; he believed he did at least..._

_He kept reading._

**Date**- Dec 5, 2012

**Time**- 12:30 PM

To be clear, I can still speak English- quite clearly at that. There seems to be another language I've learned however- a tongue that the infected seem to understand, based on the tones of a voice. Words are not needed, nor do I think they are completely understood. The tone is what they listen for.

I seem to understand it as well- two commons got into a fight over a carcass and I observed as they growled and postured at each other. It was basic concepts of possessing and wanting and threatening, but I understood it. I find it slightly funny that I'm suddenly bilingual...

**Date**- Dec 6, 2012

**Time**- 2:10 AM

I surely can't be the only infected who can still think and reason. There must be others, and if I can find them then perhaps I can get them to work together to help fix this somehow.

I know it sounds lofty- impossible perhaps- but right now it's the only option I really have.

I have to try...


End file.
